


Oh, how she blushes, how she blushes, my pretty

by setmeonfireplease



Series: The Brilliant Comet [2]
Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Hélène is also the best sister ever and has a gray moral compass, Hélène is bisexual and very into Natasha, Natasha is into Hélène and doesn't realize it, tbh I'm not sure what to put here I'm just babbling now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 12:42:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7802302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setmeonfireplease/pseuds/setmeonfireplease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One could say that Anatole Kuragin was a fool. Well, one should say that, really. But Anatole was Hélène’s brother so she would definitely not be the one to do so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh, how she blushes, how she blushes, my pretty

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to Dina for betta-ing my fic! You should go read her fics at horsegemcipher and follow her on tumblr at garnetcomets!

One could say that Anatole Kuragin was a fool. Well, one _should_ say that, really. But Anatole was Hélène’s brother so she would definitely not be the one to do so.

Still, this plan of his . . . it wasn’t the brightest, to say the least. He was attempting to play with Natasha Rostova, and with that came many risks. If Marya – a judgmental gossip who had no consideration for those she talked about – found out, she would kill Anatole. Natasha was her goddaughter, and though they were only four years apart, Marya mothered as though she were her own. If Pierre – Hélène’s boyfriend, but only out of habit – found out, he would gladly help Marya in bringing about Anatole’s premature death. Not only were Natasha and Pierre old childhood friends, but he was best friends with Andrey – Natasha’s betrothed. And if Andrey found out, well . . . Hélène could only imagine what would happen. Andrey came from a rich and powerful family, the Bolkonskys – some said they descended from royalty. With very little effort on their part, Andrey could easily become a very large block on Anatole’s already difficult road to success. To cross a Bolkonsky wasn’t a risk. It was a death wish.

Anatole carried on with his plan of course; ignoring all the risks that Hélène had taken the time to point out to him. He always loved a challenge, and Hélène could hardly judge him. So did she.

Perhaps that was why Hélène found herself so deeply attracted to the young Rostova girl herself. Not only was she engaged, the god daughter of Hélène’s most hated enemy, and seemingly straight, but Hélène herself had a boyfriend (and despite their lack of affection for each other – and all the rumors that said otherwise – she would never betray him in such a way). Maybe that’s why she wanted Natasha for herself. The overwhelming challenge it would be to have her. Well, that and her beauty.

Hélène was sure that Natasha was the most beautiful thing that she had ever seen. She was petite, with long brown hair and narrow brown eyes. Her skin was so pale it was almost glowing in the fluorescent lights of the bookstore they were currently in. She was overdressed, dripping in jewels, and held herself with a certain elegance that only girls who would marry possible royalty could have. She radiated wealth, confidence, and beauty. It enraptured all who surrounded her.

Even in the nearly empty book store, Natasha managed to gather the attention of the few who were meandering around the shop. Hélène wondered why Natasha would want to spend her Friday night here, when they could be at a much more interesting party. It’s not like Natasha had a shortage of invitations. She had just turned down Anatole’s invitation to a costume party the next night, which is why he had sent Hélène to go and convince Natasha to come.

“You shouldn’t lock yourself away just because your fiancé is across the globe,” Hélène said, breaking their only somewhat comfortable silence. Natasha looked up at Hélène in surprise. Hélène didn’t blame her for feeling that way.

Her comment was sudden and came from nowhere. She didn’t even know if it was true. She didn’t need it to be. She just needed to get Natasha to go to the party for her brother.

“Excuse me?” Natasha asked, wide eyed and obviously confused.

“You shouldn’t lock yourself away just because your fiancé is across the globe. Andrey is in Russia, probably having the time of their life. They would want you to do the same.” Hélène tried her best to keep her voice genuine.

“Andrey is in Russia to study. Not to party. I shouldn’t do what they wouldn’t.” Natasha didn’t seem to be so sure of herself. Hélène thought she might have hit a secret insecurity. Did Natasha fear that Andrey was going out? That they were doing something they shouldn’t be? Hélène knew that it would be inappropriate to use that to her advantage, but it _was_ for Anatole.

“Natasha, don’t be naïve,” Hélène said with a humorless chuckle. “You know how wild Russians can be. What makes you think Andrey’s classmates haven’t convinced them to go to every party in all of Moscow?”

Natasha had no answer. She looked at the ground for a few moments silently, pondering what was being said to her. Hélène was obviously getting to her.

“Why should _you_ be the one to spends your Friday nights in bookstores when _their_ the one who went to another continent to study? It’d be a shame to bury such a pearl in some dusty old library.” Hélène continued. A pink blush was spreading across Natasha’s pale cheeks – that always happened when Hélène flirted with her.

“I just don’t think it is a good idea. It would be inappropriate to go out to one of Anatole’s parties alone.”

“You won’t be alone dear. I’ll be there,” Hélène said with a smile.

“And Anatole of course.”  She added as an afterthought. Natasha still looked unconvinced, however.

“Trust me darling. I too know what it’s like to have a boyfriend far away,” Hélène said. Natasha frowned in confusion.

“Doesn’t Pierre live across the hall from you?” She asked.

“I meant emotionally, Dear.”

“Oh,” Is all Natasha said.

“Anyhow, I do think you should go to the costume party tomorrow. Everyone will be there. Even Pierre, if that makes you feel better,” Hélène said. She could tell Natasha was contemplating it, so she stayed quiet.

She instead walked among the shelves, searching for an interesting book as Natasha trailed silently behind her. She made sarcastic commentary about every book she picked up in an attempt to make Natasha laugh. It didn’t work. Hélène actually began to feel guilty when Natasha spoke again.

“I suppose I shall attend Anatole’s costume party,” Natasha said with uncertainty. Hélène grinned a wolfish smile.

“Lovely,” She said. She put the book she was looking at back on the shelf. “Let’s get out of here. Everything is written by boring and misogynistic white men.”

“You want to get some coffee?” Hélène asked and Natasha hummed in agreement. As they made their way to the café that was nearby the bookshop, Hélène remarked on how beautiful Natasha looked in the low glow of the streetlamps. Natasha blushed prettily and it nearly took Hélène’s breathe away.

Yes, Anatole was a fool (never mind what it said about Hélène that she was helping him). But, seeing what a charmer the beautiful Natasha was, one could hardly blame him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment and have a wonderful day!


End file.
